"Meaning he might be an ally. Or at least not an enemy." Jagger closes the file. "The remaining four seats are the ones we're claiming. Oswald. Cross. Webb. Abernathy. The Harrison seat is ours, but we’re going to claim three seats, and Jonah can take his Chen heritage back. That gives us four seats out of ten and then we leave one vacant in case we find someone worthy of taking it."
"Not a majority," Asher points out.
"We don't need a majority. We need leverage. Song gives us that. Any Custodian who fights us goes down with the ship. AnyCustodian who cooperates gets to keep their empire, under new management."
"And if they all decide to fight? If they'd rather die than bend?"
Jagger smiles. It's not a pleasant expression.
"Then they die."
The meeting breaks up after that. Teams dispersing to prepare, to pack, to make whatever peace they need to make before walking into the den of lions.
Jace catches my arm as I head for the door.
"Brother." His voice is low, meant only for me. "A word."
I nod, follow him into the corridor. The hallway is empty, afternoon light slanting through windows that haven't been cleaned in years.
"You're different." Jace studies my face with those cold blue eyes, the eyes of death itself. "Singapore changed something."
"Singapore changed a lot of things."
"The girl. Lily." He tilts his head. "You're keeping her."
"That's the plan."
"And after? When this is over? You're going to raise a child? Play house with your pit fighter?"
The words should sting. They don't. Not from Jace, who's never learned to soften his edges.
"Yeah. That's exactly what I'm going to do."
Jace is quiet. Then, slowly, the corner of his mouth lifts.
"Good."
I blink. "Good?"
"Good." He reaches out, grips my shoulder. The contact is brief, awkward, as close to affection as Jace gets. "You deserve something that isn't violence. We all do. If you've found it, hold on to it."
"What about you? What do you want when this is over?"
His expression flickers. The mask slips, his face changes. "Elliot. I want Elliot. I want quiet mornings and boring dinners and a life where no one's trying to kill us."
"That sounds whack." Deep down I crave the same and he knows it. All three of us do.
"It is." He releases my shoulder, steps back. "But I'm tired of being afraid of the wrong things."
He walks away before I can respond. The Reaper, the killing machine, the brother who's never shown weakness in his life. Walking toward his forever, who is waiting with a smile and open arms.
Maybe we’re all learning to be human again.
Maybe that’s the whole point.
I find Asher waiting by the front entrance. He’s looking out at the overgrown lawn, hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed in a way I rarely see.
“Ready?” I ask.
